Chapter 14 – Penelope
“ T his has to be illegal,” I shouted as the door shut behind the beast and most of the guards. But my voice was suddenly hoarse, and the words didn’t come out with conviction.
My uncle rounded on me. “Are you really that stupid, girl?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line.
“You wanted to play mobster? Welcome to the life of crime,” he sneered. “We don’t need your permission to do this.”
“There are witnesses. If you drag me down the aisle kicking and screaming, they’ll put a quick stop to it.” The threat bubbled up of its own accord.
Tito walked to the ice bucket with champagne. He poured a healthy flute and chugged. A burp exploded from his chest. Those fat lips smacked as he wiped drips from his chin.
“You cause a scene like that….” He pointed a sausage finger at me, while pouring another glass. “And your mother won’t see another doctor for the rest of her very short life.”
My body jolted, every function stopped, and ice formed over my heart. He wouldn’t. That was his sister. I tried to breathe, but air didn’t fill my lungs.
“Did you forget about that?” he sneered. “Was that never a consideration in your little scheme?”
He chugged again, a series of smaller hiccups exploding through his barreled chest.
“Or are you stupid enough to think that what we’d agreed to was still going to hold despite your actions today?” He slammed the empty bottle down. “That’s it, isn’t it? You thought I wouldn’t come after your mother because of what you’d done.”
“She’s your sister, and she’s sick,” I croaked.
My lungs moved a fraction, fighting desperately against the rising panic.
“Family is everything, but only if it never becomes a nuisance. And you, dear niece, are a fucking pest.” Tito ripped open the door. “Meet me at the sanctuary doors, ready to walk down that aisle with a smile on your damn face in ten minutes, or I pull the plug on your mother’s care.”
The door slammed with a terrible finality.
A petrifying chill leached into me. Numb, I looked around helplessly. There was…there was no way out of this.
I staggered to the ice bucket. The bastard hadn’t left me any alcohol. I was going to need that to get through the next hour.
Because now that the moves were played, there was nowhere else for me to maneuver on the board.
“This is not checkmate.” I fisted my hands.
I let my thoughts fly away and focused only on my breathing. I had to do this, so I would. Air in—hold. Air out—hold. The next moments were reduced to those simple steps. Walk out the door. Breath in—hold. Smile down the aisle—breath out. Don’t faint, just marry the monster—
I choked.
Brutal coughs wracked my frame. I was the sacrifice. There was no one to save me. This was the price for Poppy’s freedom and for Mom’s medical care. The option to choose myself no longer existed, and if I was being honest, it never had. Something terrible was always the price I was willing to pay to save my mom. Adding Poppy’s life to the list was a small price to add to it.
Too soon, there was a knock on the door.
I smoothed my hands through my hair. Take a step. I did. Good, now another. And that was how I made it to my uncle’s side.
“Where’s your dress?” he demanded.
The black lace of the bridesmaid gown shifted around my legs. “I’m wearing it. What? Did you think I would fit in your daughter’s custom frothy white cupcake?”
He began to snarl something.
Done with his threats, I took several fast steps forward, pushing through the double doors. Confusion filled the crowd, because it was the bride’s procession, but I was clearly not the bride they anticipated.
“Yeah, it’s a surprise to me too,” I muttered.
Halfway down the aisle and panting hard, Uncle Tito caught up to me. His clammy hands bit down on my wrist. He tugged me beside him.
“Slow down, now,” he snapped under his breath.
Murmurs swirled through the room. We waded through them like a thickening fog.
At the end of the aisle, I jerked away from my uncle and stepped before Mancini. Horror welled from the pit of my stomach. This was happening. Me, tied to this cold and vicious wolf.
Mother of god preserve me! Standing here, facing the situation with no escape, the fight instinct quickly fizzled out and gave way to flight. I looked wildly about. Where was the exit? Would they shoot if I ran? My pulse roared in my ears. I faltered, spying a door just to the side of the chancel. If I was fast enough, I could make it!
Something hard and warm slid against the skin of my inner arm. The monster—it was the monster, and he was offering me some form of comfort. The touch cut through the chaos, drawing my immediate attention.
He pushed me into this mess. It was all his fault! Why didn’t I bring something to stab him with? I ground my molars and glared at his fingers moving against my skin.
I should have told him to fuck off.
Instead, I let him continue to brush his fingers up and down my arm.
“Treasured friends and beloved family,” Tito boomed, his natural charisma pushing through the sweating, nervous exterior as he grappled with the situation. “There has been a change of plans. You came to witness the union of my daughter to Mr. Mancini. It turns out, love cannot be staunched. An attachment has formed between my niece and the groom. My sweet, darling daughter has stepped aside, wishing them all the happiness in the world. While I should shoot this man for trifling with my Poppy’s affections—”
Giggles flitted to the vaulted ceiling, the civilians taking his statement as hyperbole.
“—I cannot be the one to stand in the way of true love. So!” Tito clapped his hands. “It is with my family’s blessing that Penelope Greenbriar and Alessandro Mancini are joined in the union of Holy Matrimony.”
“Proceed, padre,” Mancini commanded the priest.
From the look on my uncle’s face, he clearly had more to say on the issue. But the order from the groom was enough for the prelate to scurry into action.
Before Tito could reach and place my hand on the mobster’s, I clutched both of Mancini’s hands.
This is of my own accord.
They might have trapped me in the impossible situation, but I would be damned if they bartered me like flesh.
Those hard fingers wrapped firmly around mine. They engulfed mine, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable. In the midst of this nightmare, the connection had the odd effect of grounding me.
But the moment I looked into his face, that cruel and calculating enigma, the trickle of fear came back in force. He was a stranger, and I was surrendering myself to him.
For Poppy. For Mom.
I can do this.
Conjuring images of their smiling faces was the only thing that bolstered me through the beginning of the service. The address on marriage, the psalm, the introit—the tedious pieces should have been soothing because they were similar to the liturgy of Sunday Mass, but I found little comfort in them.
Probably because it was all fake.
We were making a mockery of the Holy Rite.
I swore I could feel a black mark forming on my soul for standing before these people in the sight of the altar and lying about something as sacred as matrimony. What a fitting punishment for my sin—to be shackled to this lupine beast.
The priest droned on and on. Right before he moved to the pulpit to deliver the sermon, Mancini leaned in. “Make it short, padre.”
The priest’s eyes flashed wide. For changing brides on him, he was handling the situation well. But the ice dripping from the mobster’s command would make even the most pious saint falter.
As the priest scuttled into the pulpit, Mancini and I sat to the side of the chancel. The white satin ribbon on the high back chair tickled my shoulder. I had to admit, the church looked breathtaking. The fresh flowers, the ribbons and lanterns, even the greenery draping along the pillars, created a lush and soft side to the otherwise stuffy interior. Poppy’s thoughtful touches surrounded us.
My heart clenched tight. It would be wrong to let such a sweet-natured creature, such a beautiful little innocent, be handed over to the brute next to me.
I was made of sterner stuff. I would survive whatever was thrown at me.
But I was still human. I needed a distraction to keep from screaming.
So I studied the icons and paintings decorating the walls. I tapped my toe against the smooth floor. This was happening. It felt like a dream. I never daydreamed about a lavish wedding. While it would have been big—with most of the town in attendance—it wasn’t this. It would have been in the country parish church, the one I’d gone to since I was born, baptized, and had my First Communion—home. An ache weighed on my sternum. But try as I might, I wasn’t able to push the thoughts away. After the service, there would have been a big dinner. We would have had a tent in the field. The boys would have been stinking drunk, probably tip a cow.
Hell, who was I kidding, I would be right there with ‘em.
A long sigh blew through my lips. There were probably no cows to be tipped tonight. Neither fireworks nor bonfires that would roar until dawn. Tonight, there would be a fancy, stuffy dinner at the most prestigious country club in Detroit. Followed by dancing, with everyone looking and whispering. And then, the groom would whisk me away—
Oh, mother of god, don’t think about that.
Too late! I would be spending the night with him. The mob boss. I gulped. The shiver that rattled down my spine was unstoppable.
Something rough brushed against my wrist. The charms jingled. I glared down at those fingers, hating their proximity. Who did he think he was? Touching me whenever! Wherever!
My husband.
That was who.
Whenever the exegesis on Corinthians and the attributes of love was over, this man would be bound to me. He probably assumed I was his to embrace as he saw fit.
I am no man's possession.
Mancini gently lifted the silver horse. “Do you like to ride?”
The simplicity of the question made me blink. “Only weirdos don't like riding.”
He snorted. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but weirdo is a first.”
“You don’t like to ride?” Of course he didn't ride.
Holy Virgin, preserve me! A life without horses. No more galloping over the fields as the wind snapped and crackled in my face. The sun blazing down on the open landscape as the hooves thundered across the unobstructed expanse. Cows lowing in the distance, and the warm lights of home always on, ready for me to return.
It was gone.
The door to that world closed. Probably forever, unless I found a way to escape this nightmare.
I yanked my wrist away, clutching the charms protectively to my side.
Mancini exhaled softly. “You don’t have to fear me, Penelope.”
My name, on his lips...I steeled my spine against the confusing feelings mixing with the rest. “I don't fear you, lupo. I hate you.”
He stiffened.
The priest wrapped up his speech and summoned us back to the front. That hard touch captured me again, gripping my fingers in a bruising hold. I might have admitted to this man that I hated him, but what I disliked more was the crackle of sensation at his touch. How could my body respond like this? It betrayed me at every turn! Of all the things I was enduring today, this had to be the worst.
It’s not real. I didn’t actually feel excited at the contact. I couldn’t possibly feel anything. Anger kindled in my chest and it was directed at his horribly beautiful face.
Distracted and annoyed, I didn’t realize it was time for the vows until the monster began to speak. Meaningless words that were meant to bind us.
“Penelope June, you stand there before me, the vision of my future. Everything I dreamt of surmised in your alluring presence. As your husband, I promise to stand by your side, to protect you and keep you safe through every storm life brings our way. I vow to support you endlessly, to be your shield, your strength, and your unwavering shelter. Today, I give you all of me—my heart, my devotion, and my promise to always be the home where you feel safe and secure.”
That didn’t sound like a man about to acquire a possession.
Don’t let him fool you! He jumped on the opportunity to own me. I was the perfect substitute, the next best possession for this power-hungry player.
The ring was clearly too small. Mancini slipped it on my pinky, the blood flow immediately clamped.
“Penelope?” the priest urged.
My turn. “I vow to be the perfect little wife. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”
A shuffle in the crowd drew my attention in that direction.
I should probably pretend to like him—just a little.
“I promise to be faithful, taking you as my lawfully wedded husband,” I added, drawing on the memories of past weddings, but altering the traditional vows to suit my enraged feelings at the situation. “To have and to hold, from this day forward, until we part.”
Because we would be parting. One way or another, this wasn’t my future. It couldn’t be the end to my story. I wouldn’t allow it.
Fueled by that determination, I kept speaking. “For better or worse, I’ll be there, a thorn in your side that you can’t dig out. For richer or poorer, wealth and status will never sway me. Come sickness or health, I will be the cherished wife you need me to be.”
For some reason, I left off the till death us do part line. Perhaps it was the spark deep in his black gaze. Perhaps it was the fact that no matter what, I didn’t see a situation where I became a murderer.
No, I would leave that to whatever other enemies this man had.
This little enemy wasn’t going to kill him. Drive him to madness? Sure, I would happily do that. Create an unlivable hell in his home? Sign me up!
Take his life? No…. It wouldn’t need to come to that.
“By the power vested in me by God and the Church, I pronounce you husband and wife. Let these guests take witness to the vows spoken, and let what has joined never be torn asunder,” the priest proclaimed.
Those words held a terrible finality. They were a thunderclap to my senses. The air left my lungs, and I staggered.
But two arms snatched me, tugging me into a hard embrace.
Before I could scream at being caught by the monster, his mouth crushed against mine. That contact brought precious air to my lungs. But his hard, demanding kiss cut off the blast of panic.
This close, the ice monster was anything but cold. No, his touch burned, and his body was warm.
Warm enough to make my own body forget we were enemies.
It had to be the reason I melted into his hold.
I gasped at the overload to my senses. Mancini struck, taking advantage of the sharp intake of air. His tongue plunged into my mouth, sweeping and tasting me.
Mother of god, he kissed like a sinner.
And I didn’t hate the way it felt.
As if drawn by invisible strings, my hands roved over his body, pushing up his hard torso that had to be cut from living stone. I fisted the lapels of his jacket—and so help me, I tugged him closer!
The kiss deepened, our tongues clashing. The spot between my legs ached with relief, and at the same time demanded more. I pushed against his body, desperate for more. We were making out, devouring one another in front of the entire church! But neither of us seemed to care. The tingling chemistry that we’d been avoiding since the airport was finally released.
It consumed us.
Mancini groaned. At this point, he was fucking my mouth with his tongue. And me? The good girl from the country, who never broke any law worse than speeding? I was about to climb him.
A rough cough somewhere far away eventually reached us.
We broke apart, staring hard at one another and panting for breath.
“If you touch me again, padre, you’ll lose that hand,” Mancini rasped, quiet enough for only us to hear.
“Please, sir, don’t continue that public display of affection here,” the priest muttered.
Vaguely aware of the suddenly roaring, cheering crowd, that I’d somehow been oblivious to in the heat of the moment, I was now acutely aware of the steamy, rated-R smooch I just had with the man I swore not five minutes ago that I loathed.
Get a damn grip! I struggled the entire way out of the church to regain control of myself. It barely worked. There was one thing that service proved. Lust was a powerful force, and I was addicted after that one hit.